


Silver in the Snow

by OnlyInAutumn



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Beyond the Wall - Freeform, Dany is always warm because that is my canon, Dragons, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Pining, Sort Of, Wildling!Dany, army of the dead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-05 16:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20491895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyInAutumn/pseuds/OnlyInAutumn
Summary: Beyond the Wall, as they marched towards the Fist of the First Men, Jon Snow discovers that one of the rumors and whispers of Westeros is true when he happens upon a girl with silver hair and violet eyes in the snow. Many dangers lurk, but the Princess Beyond the Wall is full of mystery and allure, and Jon finds his loyalties wavering, as much as he tries to fight it.





	1. First Sight

**—**

**Jon**

**—**

They had been walking for days on end, having little sleep in between them marching towards the Fist of the First Men. They were not far by that point, maybe half a day more to go before they could make camp. Ever since they had departed from Castle Black, Jon had never seen so much snow and ice in his entire life. The whole land was frozen over. At every turn, there was more ice that sculpted the lands.

It was not just the lands, though, it was also their faces that the ice molded and clung to. They were all miserable, chilled to their core, and completely sleep deprived from all the shivering keeping them up—if not them, it was the brother next to them. Not so easy sleeping out there, in misery.

As they continued to march, Edd turned around, eyes squinting from the wind. His face said it all—nose and lips both chapped and red. “Can it get any more fucking cold?”

“I’m sure it will,” Jon said over the wind.

With every step further North, the colder and more brutal the conditions were becoming. Jon was surprised they had not lost any brothers to the weather yet.

Next to him, Sam’s teeth were wildly chattering, as was his body, making him look like he might topple over with all the supplies he was carrying—for a third time. “Don’t say that,” he scolded.

Ah, there he was, the optimist of the bunch.

Jon turned his head to the left and saw his direwolf straying from his side, following the scent of something, nose turned into the snow. His long legs allowed him to travel at an alarming rate. “Ghost, stay here!” he yelled after him.

The direwolf stopped and lifted his head to look at Jon briefly, as if to give consideration to his order, but instead turned back and continued to follow whatever it was he smelled.

“Ghost!” he barked again, making a face, hurt by the rejection.

“No point,” Edd told him bleakly. “This is his land, remember? He’ll do as he pleases.”

With concern, Jon explained, “I don’t want him going too far.”

“Why? He’ll find his way back.”

How nonchalant Edd was about did not transfer over to Jon. His scowl only deepened, huffing out a breath that he could see in front of him.

Yes, Jon was sure that Ghost could easily find his way back, but with how quickly the weather could turn, he didn’t want Ghost turning up too far from him. He liked him close, and it was starting to feel unsettling the further Ghost parted from him, like he was losing a part of himself.

Whatever trail he was following, it must have been something that smelled like it would taste good. Jon imagined the only thing that would have him motivated enough to be moving at such as rate was a meal. Even though Jon always gave him some extra of his portions, Ghost was still an animal, trained to innately seek out prey. And just as Ghost disappeared behind a ridge, Jon started to stray from the line of brothers, headed after to him and down a slope.

“Where are you going?” questioned Sam through gritted teeth, high pitched, because he couldn’t believe that Jon was leaving them.

“To get Ghost. I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t think the Lord Commander will appreciate you running after your pet,” Edd called after him.

When Jon turned around to make a remark that not only was Ghost not a pet, but that he would not be gone long enough to be noticed missing, he found that Edd had also departed from the line. He was headed Jon’s way, trudging through the snow with all his gear.

“Better to get lost with a friend than alone out here,” he mumbled as he flanked Jon on his left. “The things I get myself into for you,” Edd then mused to himself, shaking his head in his own disbelief.

It made Jon chuckle.

As they walked in Ghost’s direction, Jon looked around at the white blanket that covered everything in sight for mile after mile. It would surely be easy to get lost with everything looking the same, or if a storm came through and buried the tracks made in the snow.

“We’ll be quick,” he affirmed.

They tracked Ghost with ease, the ridge carved in the shape of a crescent surprisingly not slippery under their boots. They were able to walk without falling into the snow too much, and as soon as they slipped to the other side, Jon spotted Ghost standing over something, his head ducked down, massive furry body blocking the view. With the glare of the sun bouncing off the ice, it was hard to make out what it was.

“A fresh kill?” asked Edd, taking notice.

They quickly made their way to the base, navigating around some snowy boulders and jagged rocks. Edd only slipped once, muttering a quick _fucking seven hells_ before Jon helped him back to his feet. Jon altered his stance so that the sun was behind him, and the sight before Ghost came into full view. His mouth dropped open.

A girl.

That was apparent from first sight.

Her body was face up. She was small, a light grey fur cloak pulled together at her neck, a hood partially covering her hair. But her hair was almost the same color as the snow itself, maybe a few shades warmer. Ghost was bent over and sniffing her, his long snout nestling around her stomach, pushing off the cloak. That was when Jon noticed the red stain, blood leaking out of a wound at her side that extended partly onto her stomach.

“Seven hells,” exclaimed Edd, but not with much enthusiasm. “What’s a girl like that doing out here? Is she dead?”

Jon was just as mystified. “I don’t know.”

Ghost whined and laid down next to the girl, his head resting right above the wound, eyes narrowed at Jon. He had never seen Ghost be so gentle and affectionate to another person before, especially after just meeting. It struck him as odd and Jon took a step further to get a better look, Ghost’s strange fascination intriguing him.

“Did he kill her?”

“_No_,” Jon snapped, defensive after the accusation.

Ghost would not do that, especially if unprovoked.

Jon stepped back to join Edd. “What do you think?”

“She’s a Wildling. Must be.”

Jon shrugged his shoulders, some ice flakes falling off as he did. “Whatever she is, she’s not exactly dressed for the climate,” he remarked, taking notice of how she was lacking any gloves to cover her hands from the chill.

Her boots were not well worn, but Jon estimated he would last half a day in them before all his toes turned blue and needed to be cut off. She wore little layers under the cloak too. She seemed like she should be wandering around Winterfell instead of that far beyond the Wall.

“Go see if she has a pulse,” instructed Edd, nudging Jon forward.

Jon was not exactly thrilled with the suggestion. “Me?”

He motioned to Jon. “You’re closer.”

_Well, I am now_, he thought to himself after he was bumped forward.

Jon snorted and trudged through the snow to kneel down next to the girl. Carefully, he watched her for a couple of seconds, and after not seeing any breaths, decided he had no other option.

“Out of the way, Ghost,” he tried to tell him, but the direwolf refused to move. Jon felt a bit irritated by his overall behavior that day. “_Ghost_,” he warned more sternly.

He relented and moved off, instead deciding to get back in a sitting position, hind legs only moving a step backwards so Jon could inspect. Jon removed his glove, hating the feeling of the wind against it, and placed his fingers against the girl’s neck. He yanked it back away at first, the feeling of warmth a shock to his skin. The strength of the heat was unnatural, but he told himself it was just because he was frozen.

_Get on with it_, he whispered, and he molded his fingers to the side of her neck that was exposed again.

There was pulse there, a few beats, but it was worryingly slow. He glanced back at Edd with furrowed brows.

“Dead?” he presumed, not even looking for Jon to contradict him. “Let’s get the fuck out of here then.”

He started to turn back away, but Jon stopped him by saying, “No, she’s alive. Her heart is beating and she feels warm.” He wasn’t going to mention anything more, but it slipped out of him furthering, “Abnormally warm. Almost…_hot_.”

Edd stretched his neck, but did not move any closer. “You’re sure?”

He gave him a look over his shoulder. “I know what a pulse feels like.”

Jon turned his attention back to the girl. Something else took over him then, completely lost looking at her as he removed her hood to make sure her head was not injured also. She was stunning, and certainly the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. There was not a flaw to her. He let his finger draw up towards her face and let the back of his hand fall against her cheek. Still warm, _so _warm—the kind of warmth that was addicting out there. And for wearing such little amount, Jon was baffled. It did not make any logical sense. No one would be alive long without the proper winter gear, and yet she somehow managed.

“Who are you?” he asked out loud, not expecting any sort of response.

He was halfway bent over her in full admiration when her head slipped back to facing upward towards the sky. Her eyes flashed open and connected with his instantly. Never had he ever been so shocked. It must have been the same way for her, because a moment went by and then she screamed, startling both Jon and Edd. While Jon scrambled backwards away from her, Edd lost his footing and fell backwards into the snow, flakes going up into the air, where they got taken by the wind.

“Relax!” Jon said in a spooked panic, holding out his hands to show his innocence. “We aren’t here to hurt you.”

She gasped for air as she tried to sit up, only making it halfway. “Who are you?” she managed.

_Could ask you the same._

“Night’s Watch,” he quickly affirmed.

It was probably obvious from the attire, but Jon also realized that to her, saying he was from the Night’s Watch may not be the words that calmed her. He scrambled for something else to say, but his mind was not working quick enough. She had already grabbed her side, a look of pain flushing over her. As her hand pulled away to examine, both Jon and her saw that her flesh was stained in blood.

_We didn’t do that_, he wanted so say, _we found you that way_, but was still finding himself at a loss for words.

Her bloody hand suddenly slammed down into the ice to keep her steady, eyes going wide to fight off unconsciousness. Despite not knowing the girl or what she was capable of—or if she hated them to the core for being brothers of the Night’s Watch—Jon once again moved closer, getting to her side cautiously. Her eyes were drooping, and he didn’t want her head to whack the ice upon a fall.

One injury was enough, especially with limited supplies.

“Careful,” he warned, being gentle.

Jon angled himself, catching her as her body began to slump backwards. He held her there, head rolling against his chest, her hand going back to cover the wound. His thumb stroked her cheek as her eyes fluttered, a small whimper coming from her. A strange protective feeling overcame him, strong and persistent, one he did not understand.

Ghost bent his head down, nudging her hand away, tongue flashing out because he wanted to clean the wound. She groaned in protest, shutting her eyes tight, her other free hand grasping at the leather straps of his cloak.

He swatted the air in front of his snout to get Ghost out of the way. “No,” he scolded, “You’re hurting her.”

For a moment there, Jon had forgotten that Edd was there with him. Embarrassment rose on his cheeks of how affectionate he must have looked towards the girl, but he knew Edd would say nothing to anyone. He was not the type to gossip, but he might bring it up to Jon at a later time.

Jon and Edd exchanged a look once he glanced up, neither knowing what the best course of action was, and both knowing they could not leave her there to die.

In mutter, Edd said, “I’m going to go get the Lord Commander.”

Jon closed her eyes. They did not have another option, but he knew it could result in a not so good outcome. Edd turned, attempting a run as best he could back up the hill, leaving the two there alone with Ghost.

“Don’t sleep,” he tried to tell her, “You’re hurt. You need to stay awake.”

If she closed her eyes like that again, she may never open them again. But her eyes, that was something else entirely. Orbs of a violet color, an otherworldly pigmentation surrounded by clear white, her head tilted up towards him, and his tilted down towards her.

Close.

Very close.

“Can’t stay here,” she whispered, words mumbled. “Tell them. Go back. White Walkers,” she choked out.

He almost didn’t hear what she said, too distracted by those eyes and how close they had found themselves to each other. Then, it registered.

_White Walkers. _

Jon’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“They’re coming this way,” she managed to say, Jon noticing that she was struggling to remain conscious. “They bring…they bring…”

And that was it. She never finished her thought before her head tilted all the way backwards, eyes rolling back as well. Her grip on his leather loosened, hovering for a moment before her arm dropped and was brought across her ribs. Jon could barely comprehend what had just happened. He just stayed there frozen in place, holding her with Ghost at his side as a lookout until he noticed Edd and the Lord Commander finding their way back down through the snow.

Jon’s heart began to race at the sight of the Lord Commander Mormont, swiftly approaching with an unreadable face.

“What is this?” he demanded, bending down in the snow, examining. “If there is one Wildling girl around, there are definitely more. She was not alone.”

Edd pointed to the blood left in the snow. “Definitely not alone. Someone did that to her.”

“Or _something_,” Jon corrected, nervous to even bring it up, feeling his grip to the girl tighten.

The pair looked at him, seeking further clarification. Jon sighed. “She said something about White Walkers before she fell unconscious. That they are coming this way. She was trying to say something else too, but wasn’t able to get it out in time. She was trying to warn us.”

The Lord Commander’s face changed. “Aye, we should heed the warning, keep our eyes out more than we are now.” He began to scan the landscape for any other signs of life or danger nearby. “We’ll have to keep moving for now. We’re out here in the open, susceptible to attack. Once we get to the Fist, we’ll join the others. Then we will plan further.”

“Are we taking her with us, then?” asked Edd, skeptical.

“If she has friends out this way, then we don’t want to be caught seeming as if we are holding her hostage. We can’t start a war. There are only so many of us here.” He firmly looked at Jon. “I see you’re quite taken with her…”

“No, I—”

His defense was cut short with a simple hand raise. “No time for that. Head for Castle Black, the both of you. In all likelihood, we won’t be too far behind your trail. I trust that she will be safe with you.”

In other words, she was at no risk of being raped and left for dead. It even then made Jon grind his teeth that he had to call some who would do that his brothers.

“Just us?” Jon questioned, eyeing Edd.

Would they be able to make it back alone?

The Lord Commander caught onto his hesitance. “Alright, then. Anyone else you trust, as I assume there are few, and keep this quiet. Leave now while there is still daylight.” He pointed to the girl Jon was still clinging to. “Get her in a sled and patch her up when you make camp. I expect her healed and awake once I return.”

The orders were heard. Jon rose back up to his feet with the aid of Edd, and all three walked back up the slope as Jon carried the mysterious girl. He shielded her with his cloak so the other brothers would not be able to see as easily.

“Keep moving!” the Lord Commander shouted to the others.

Although there was some hesitation, no one dared to disobey. One by one, they all began to form the line again and started marching with their supplies.

His friends, Grenn, Pyp, and Sam had all strayed from the line, waiting at the back.

“What’s all this?” Grenn questioned, interested. “Edd came running up, face all pale like he’d seen a ghost down there.”

“My face is always pale,” Edd said out the side of his mouth. “I haven’t seen the sun since I got to Castle Black.”

Jon lifted the girl in his arms slightly, to refer to her. “She’s injured and talking of White Walkers coming this way. We’re ordered back to Castle Black to get her healed.”

“A girl?” Pyp said by surprise. “A _Wildling_?”

Grenn ignored him entirely. “What? Back to Castle Black, the two of you?”

“Take those you trust,” Edd imitated the Lord Commander’s voice.

They all exchanged a look, knowing that it would be the group of them traveling together.

“Well, thank fuck,” Grenn exclaimed, the happiest Jon had ever seen him. “Let’s get moving.”

—

Half a day had passed and darkness was falling quickly. The whole way they had walked, imprinting footsteps the opposite way they had initially come, Grenn was going on and on about how the girl was some kind of savior for getting them out of the snow and wind once they returned back to Castle Black.

It was just as the sun dipped below a mountain in the distance that they had come across the same small patch of land they walked by that same day, the one that had a pathway nestled between two rocky cliffs. A stream ran in the middle, frozen bits at the edge, where they had filled up their canteens upon their arrival back.

They would settle there for the night, as they had no other option, then start walking again at first light. It was one of the safer places, given that they were not out in the open with no cover. Grenn, Edd, and Pyp had already started to scavenge for any pieces of wood or twigs for a small fire they agreed to have, but only for a short while. Enough for their blood to heat up a bit, but not long enough for anyone out in the distance to track them. It made Jon uneasy, but they needed the warmth for the night and to heat up what little food they had with them.

Again, no other option—apart from freezing to death since their bodies would no longer be moving. He had to take the risk and hope their throats were not slit during the night by Wildlings.

Jon swiftly helped to make their small camp and the makeshift tent that Sam, Jon, and the girl would be staying in. They had been pulling the girl they found in one of their sleds the entire time, taking turns dragging the weight behind them. Sam was persistent about wanting to take a look at the wound after he had wrapped her up over her clothes back before they left so there would be pressure on the injury.

Once the structure was built for the night and Jon was happy with the sturdiness, he pulled her from the sled with Grenn’s help, placing her gently onto the furs that had been laid out for her. Grenn boisterously made the joke about how it was the first time in a long time his hands had been on a woman, but Jon only glared at him, forcing him back out to heat the food. And with a crackle of some brush catching outside, Sam kneeled down onto the ground and started to examine the patch of blood.

Jon waited patiently ducked down in the corner, a lantern in the middle to light up their small space, and one with Sam to accurately see. There was something about the girl that made him stare, even when he tried to tell himself to tear his eyes away. He was fully aware about how his eyes had not left her face since Sam had clipped away some material around her side to view the wound.

There, in what little comfort the tent provided, the light showed everything better. She had soft features, skin smooth with no blemishes, and full lips that were a rosy pink. Her frame was small, short, but her womanly figure was noticeable once Sam peeled back the cloak. 

He kept thinking about those eyes that had the coloring of a flower in full bloom during the Spring.

When Sam glanced up, Jon was a bit bashful, feeling like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, though there was no harm in only looking. Instead of mentioning anything, Sam, with a hesitant joy said, “This isn’t too bad.”

“No?”

That was good—she wasn’t going to die in their hands.

“Not at all what I thought. Very manageable with what we’ve got here until Castle Black. But, we should really clean out the wound. An infection could kill her, especially in the conditions out here.”

“Think it needs to be stitched?”

Sam moved his face closer to get a better view, unsure. “Maybe, but the best we can do now is keep it wrapped up and clean. It isn’t bleeding too much anymore, a good sign.” He dug around in his pack that was off to the side, pulling out some long pieces of cloth that were rolled up tight for travel. “Here. This is all I have left. It’ll have to go around her torso and tied at the side. I’ll put another piece that is softer at the wound and we can change that out every day after a cleaning.”

It was a good enough plan, as Jon trusted Sam’s judgement.

Sam eyes bolted from side to side, pausing. “Well, I’ll require your assistance.”

Jon made a face, backing off. “I’d feel better if _you_ cleaned the wound.”

He would probably only hurt her further, whereas Sam would be more gentle and thorough.

“That’s not what I meant.” He nodded his head her way. “I have to get all the way to the wound first, then wrap _under_ her clothes for protection.”

Jon scratched at his head, looking down at the girl laid out, feeling a shift within him. “What do you want me to do, take her clothes off?” he snapped. “Sorry,” he then apologized, realizing he shouldn’t have barked at Sam like that.

“It’s alright, we’re all under a lot of stress here.” Sam seemed like he was always the most logical under times of duress, always looking in the positive light. “Any mention of White Walkers could do that to a person.”

It was more than that and they both knew it.

Jon shifted closer, although he still asked in a small and boyish voice, “Why do I have to do it?”

He held up his hands. “I already cleaned up and sterilized as best I could.”

Jon looked down at the girl who laid still, shifting from one leg to the other. “This feels wrong,” he stated, closing his eyes.

“Why?” Sam asked. “Is it because…because you’ve never—?”

“It’s not that,” he claimed, rolling his eyes, though the thought did make him a little nervous. “She’s unconscious, and here I am about to strip some of her clothes off without her knowing.”

“To _help_ her,” Sam emphasized. “Jon, she could die from an infection, or start to bleed again without the proper pressure on the wound. Better to clean it now and bind it before anything spreads. I’m sure she won’t mind that we’re taking care of her instead of leaving her out in the snow.”

Jon stood there and let out a long exhale. Sam was right. Jon yanked off his gloves and tossed them onto the ground, falling to his knees next to the lantern. The pit inside his stomach grew as his fingers fell around the secured flaps of the material she wore tight to her body. With the first layer off after scooping up her upper half, Jon peeled the rest of the layer closest to her body up so her midsection was exposed. He was fairly certain that his left thumb was very close to the underpart of her breast, but he turned his eyes upward and said nothing, allowing himself to feel guilty before readjusting his grip.

Sam worked diligently to get the wound cleaned, leaving several pieces of cloth bloody behind. Once complete, Jon briskly arranged her body back into the clothes.

Almost like he was meaning for it to only be thought, Sam murmured with a cocked head, “Rather peculiar, isn’t it?”

“What’s peculiar?” Jon asked.

He motioned to the girl, patting off his hands with a damp cloth. “It’s just…well, her hair. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Have you?”

“Wait until you see her eyes,” he mentioned casually.

“What about them?”

Jon shrugged a shoulder. “They’re violet. She’s certainly unique.”

A strange look crossed his face, like there was a puzzle he was putting together. “Oh, my,” he said in a shaky voice, and took a step backwards, his hand resting on his large stomach. He then repeated, “_Oh, my_.”

Jon almost wanted to roll his eyes at the dramatic tone his friend was taking. “Sam, do you need to sit down?”

“No!” Sam’s eyes widened. He pointed a finger at the girl, looking like he had a shiver run through his whole body. “Silver hair, violet eyes? Think about it.”

Jon blinked.

Sam was frustrated that the connection was not made. “Jon, she’s a _Targaryen_.”

Jon retracted as if he had been slapped.

No.

That was impossible.

He had heard several rumors about the disappearance of the baby Rhaella Targaryen had at Dragonstone before the Baratheons arrived, or possibly thereafter. No one was quite sure how it happened, as apparently Stannis Baratheon never talked about it after his arrival back to his brother, who would become the King. Jon’s father had said that no matter what Robert asked or threatened, Stannis remained stoic and unwilling to reveal the details. All he said was the girl was not a threat anymore.

From that alone, countless rumors swirled the Seven Kingdoms. Some said that the baby girl was tossed into the sea minutes after birth, some said that she was stillborn. Some said that Stannis Baratheon sold her into slavery across the Narrow Sea, and some said that he allowed a servant to escape with her during the storm to give her a chance because he could not bear to kill a tiny infant.

At one point in time, when Jon was young, he overheard his father speaking about how King Robert was so enraged that there was still talk of her that he banned any further mention of the baby in King’s Landing or anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms.

The talk of her only grew more once there was a name to associate.

_Daenerys._

That was her name.

Why Stannis chose to disclose that piece of information years later, again, no one was sure—and the circumstances around how he knew it was also a mystery. It was only later in his life that he named her out loud, right after his daughter was born. Perhaps, it was his brief joy of entering fatherhood and seeing his own flesh and blood daughter that it slipped from his lips, or maybe he had one day been mad at Robert and let all those near hear her name, just out of spite. In all likelihood, Jon imagined it was the latter.

Daenerys.

She had a name, and it took through all the towns and castles like wildfire, ignoring the punishment King Robert had claimed to give to any who spoke of her. Overtime, her name became more hushed on the lips, but the stories were still told, all interested in the secret that Stannis Baratheon was holding onto, each story varying from one to the next.

Jon recalled the first time he saw the letters written pretty in a book of history, boggled by how the pronunciation would go. Theon had laughed at him when he tried to put it all together, but he didn’t even know how it went.

Her whereabouts or final resting place was unknown. Jon imagined that only a handful of people in their world knew the truth, perhaps only Stannis himself. It never haunted many, though every time it was brought up at Winterfell in the presence of his father, Jon remembered that Ned Stark never wanted to stay on the subject long.

“A _Targaryen_, Jon,” Sam repeated, gulping. “Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Aye, I heard you the first time,” he mumbled in dismay.

Their predicament had become a lot more difficult suddenly. As shiver ran down Jon’s spine, and it certainly was not from the frigid cold that time. He glanced back and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. It all made sense—the hair, the eyes, the rumors. She looked out of place for beyond the Wall because she was never intended to be there. She should have been growing up in the Red Keep.

“Seven Hells,” Sam said, sounding exasperated.

Seven Hells, indeed.

“I heard once that someone close to their family smuggled her from Dragonstone and through one of the castles along the Wall.” Sam scratched at his head. “I never actually believed it. Thought in all likelihood she would have been dead…or across the Narrow Sea. Why would anyone bring her _here_?”

Jon snorted, seeing his breath in front of him. Dark, he muttered, “Because no one would dare follow.”

Whoever had brought Daenerys to the Wall and then ventured further did it because they knew assassins could have followed her across the Narrow Seas, tracked by spies. Robert Baratheon would have never stopped until he had a body or a head. There, in the Land of Always Winter, she would be safe, if she could survive.

Jon heard Grenn and Pyp approaching the tent, quickly, and bickering about something—most likely the weather conditions, the most popular of topics among them.

“Don’t tell the others,” warned Sam in a low voice, ducking his head in Jon’s direction as he spoke.

Jon would have asked why, but he never got the chance, as his friends were already pulling the flap to the entrance up and huddled inside, making it feel crowded.

“Fucks sake,” Grenn groaned, dusting snow off of him as he entered the safety of the tent. “I can’t feel my fucking fingers or toes.”

“What it is?” Jon demanded.

The pair looked uncomfortable, which was troubling.

“There’s something out there.”

Jon’s hand went to the pummel of Longclaw. “And you came to hide in here?” he asked, annoyed.

He tried to push past the pair to head out and be ready to fight if necessary, but was stopped. Grenn gulped, stepping in front of Jon before he could move past altogether. “Not Wildlings. It was in the sky.”

Jon released his sword.

After a moment of contemplation, Sam started to chuckle. “Scared of a bird? Was an owl swooping down at you?”

Grenn looked offended, disappointed he was not being taken seriously. “Sure, a bird. That was what scared the fuck out of us. A tiny little bird that flew overhead and made the snow around us fly into the air and nearly knock us to our feet.”

Pyp meekly offered a smile at Jon. “A small storm is coming through. The winds have picked up, so it’s probably just an illusion. We can barely see a thing out there.”

“Well, I saw _something_,” Grenn claimed, looking both spooked and irritated because Pyp was not backing him. “It was big and loud. And I don’t think we should stay here. What if it comes back?”

“We are all exhausted,” Jon said, dismissing the claim his friend was making. “I’m sure it was nothing. Besides, I am more worried about what is on the ground than in the sky.”

Neither of them moved.

“You have your own tent, don’t you?” Jon hinted. "I know Edd is out there in his already."

Pyp remained quiet, staring at the ground.

“Aye,” Grenn sighed, disgruntled.

It made Jon feel a prickle of impatience. “It’s crammed enough in here. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Pyp offered.

“You?” Grenn asked, sizing Pyp up.

They continued to banter as they both exited the tent.

“They feel safe with you around,” Sam said, trying to ease the tension.

Jon softened just a touch. “They need to learn to feel safe on their own. One day they’ll need it. I can’t be there to always protect them.”

“I know, I was only—”

“I know,” Jon clarified, chipping in a small grin. He put his hand out towards the farthest section of the tent. “Get some sleep. We have a lot of headway to make tomorrow.”

Jon peeked his head outside, making out that Ghost was sitting down a few yards away, facing away from him. Ideally, he would rather have his direwolf sleep outside to keep watch with Pyp, but the heat he gave off was too valuable, so he called him in.

“Come on, Ghost.”

His direwolf got to his paws and obeyed the command. His body nearly took up the entire space of the entrance to get in, but he managed it. And although he took up a good portion of their tent, Ghost settled down into a ball, head rested on the tip his tail to the left of the entrance, one ear perked up.

“Good boy.”

Jon took a spike and pinned the inside flap to the ice, then stomped it into the ground a few times to hold what little warmth they had in.

—

Sam was snoring softly, bundled up as best he could. Jon was in the middle of Sam and who they were certain was Daenerys Targaryen. He was on his back, head facing upward on top of a pack that was mostly hard on his head and offered little support. Jon had the edges of his cloak sealed in front of him, an attempt to stay warm.

The winds battered against the skins woven with other materials—anything they had access to at Castle Black—that lined their tent, but that was not what kept him awake. He couldn’t sleep—though he had not exactly tried, too occupied with listening for danger on the outside. Mostly, his mind was racing with their recent discovery of who they travelled with.

Jon let his head roll to the other side, to take in the view of the girl under their care. She was on her back, face towards him.

She was a mystery.

Beyond that, her eyes were open and connecting with Jon’s. His breathing came to a halt, having not anticipated her being awake, though she was only looking at him with her eyelids half closed.

In the quietest, even tempered voice, she asked, “Who are you?”

To put her at ease, he replied, “Jon.”

Her lips parted. “Jon,” she repeated back before her eyes closed again.

It was such a small interaction, but it had his stomach tied up in a tight knot. The way she had said his name, well, he had never heard anyone say his name like _that _before.

Daenerys was back asleep, head falling further against her cloak that he had rested behind her. He wondered what she would have told him if he had asked what her name was. Was she even aware of the ancestry she belonged to? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this idea for so long that I really hope you all like it. I've got a lot of chapters already written and drafted and I am absolutely so excited to be posting more soon.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and any predictions!


	2. Escape

**—**

**Jon**

**—**

Gone.

She was gone.

And he was an idiot.

Jon had woken up just as the sun was creeping over the horizon, only to find that it was just Sam, Ghost and him in the tent. For a moment, he had thought it was all a strange dream, that he was still marching towards the Fist of the First Men. Then, reality set in. Jon had let her walk right off—and he had been given orders to return with her to Castle Black. Jon had thought her wounds would be too great for her to walk on her own, but, evidently, he had been wrong. Not even Ghost had woken, which was the most surprising of all. How she had managed it was astonishing.

“At least she didn’t slit our throats before she left,” mumbled Grenn as they gathered at a fire that was burnt out. Grenn and Pyp had taken over for Edd’s watch, woken up early and ate, so Daenerys would have been gone for at least some time since she was not seen. Either that, or they were just oblivious to her sneaking out of their camp—which was even worse. “Can we still head back for the Wall?”

Jon moved past him, looking around the landscape, back the way they had come in. There was no new snow, and he could easily follow the smaller footsteps leading out of their camp once he searched and found them.

She could not have gotten too far with an injury. At the maximum, Jon estimated that she must have been only a few hours ahead of them—well, in back of them, technically. There was no way she would have been marching off _towards_ the Wall. Her people were not there.

Swiftly, Jon was planning. “Pack up, we’re headed after her.”

There was an audible sigh from Pyp, and a harsh groan from Grenn. It was only Sam who said nothing, and Edd who said _aye_, which Jon was grateful for. At least half of his group was tolerable.

“Well, now, go on. Hurry up!” he barked back at his other brothers, who were still standing there as Daenerys got further and further away.

There was no time for moping about their circumstances.

“Let’s play a game,” Grenn announced as he turned back to gather up their supplies. “It’s called guess how much this one girl can fuck up our lives and make us either starve to death out here or get attacked by Wildlings.”

“Do us all a favor and just shut up,” Edd grumbled. “It was just yesterday she was a savior to you.”

Jon ignored them as he dismantled his tent as quick as possible, throwing all the supplies into packs and one of the two sleds they carried with them.

They had limited daylight out there, and had to find Daenerys before the sun dipped below the horizon. Once it was dark again, then they might as well lose all hope of retrieving her. Jon’s hands worked swiftly, and once packed, Jon started to follow the tracks, hopeful it would inspire the others to work with a little bit more haste to their actions in order to fully depart. He knew they had no choice but to follow him, even if unwilling.

Ghost caught up, trudging side by side with Jon. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, frustrated. “Did you really not hear her escape?”

His direwolf averted his eyes to watching in front of him, walking a few paces ahead after Jon’s abrupt questioning. Could she have really been so quiet that not even Ghost had woken? It seemed near impossible, as Ghost heard every little creak in the castle or piece of wood snapping while out in the forest.

It was not long before Jon’s friends raced to catch up, pulling the sleds of supplies along with them. They didn’t say anything once they caught up, though he was sure they had exchanged comments when Jon was out of earshot. It was wise of them to come to a consensus to not bring any complaints up again so soon.

Once they had gotten out of the ridge, they could see a good portion of the horizon in front of them—and the storm that was brewing off to the left. The clouds were dark, ominous looking, and Jon knew there was something cold coming their way. It was tarp of white and gray that was making its way across the lands, nothing on the other side able to be seen. It was a nasty storm, and who knew how wide it was. It could be days upon days of being trapped if caught in its wrath. They might be able to escape the storm, but only if it did not creep any farther South and continued to blow towards the sea.

Jon kept his goal set. Their only hope would be to find Daenerys and start to march back to avoid it.

Hours later and they were still tracking the tiny footsteps in the snow. To Jon, it looked like her pace had significantly slowed down, the tracks shorter together, and there was evidence that she had kneeled down in the snow several times. It made Jon’s face turn further into a scowl. He felt bad—even though it was she who had run from them—that she was facing the issue of traveling with a wound that probably was hurting her by that point, weak from lack of food or water.

Lucky for them, the brunt of the storm was shifting further North, but the tail end of it was still approaching, gusts of wind bringing snow their way, it hitting their faces.

“We’re fucked.”

Grenn’s negativity was starting to get on Jon’s nerves.

“Then go back to Castle Black,” he offered, twisting back to Grenn. “I don’t need anyone holding us back.”

He regretted saying it, but as soon as he was about to apologized, Grenn opened his mouth again.

“Why don’t we just say she died from the wounds and we buried her in the snow,” he retorted. “No one would know.”

Jon would.

And it bothered him that Grenn was not sharing that same ideology.

“I’m not a liar,” he stood firm. “And I won’t lie to the Lord Commander about what happened.”

Besides, how would he ever be able to look at Maester Aemon the same way knowing that he had not only met his own kin, but he let her get away when she was injured and left her?

Edd agreed, pulling up next to Grenn, releasing the sled for just a moment. “We can’t say that. If anyone found out, they would hang us all.”

“Or worse, if up to Ser Allister,” chirped in Sam, side-eyeing the pair next to him after they had all formed a line in back of Jon.

It occurred to them then, as he looked at the sleds both Edd and Grenn were carrying that Daenerys had not taken any supplies of theirs with her, which he found odd. The only logical explanation he could think of was that she knew the other Wildlings were nearby, therefore, found it unnecessary to steal. Either that, or even in the conditions, she was no thief.

He tried to wonder what he would do if he were her as they continued to move on, but found it particularly frustrating. He did not know her, nor could he predict her movements, and finding Daenerys as they continued to walk started to seem less and less possible.

It was as the sun started to fall back downward that Jon’s stomach started to turn. It was forcing Jon to start to ponder how he was supposed to tell the Lord Commander he had lost the girl he had entrusted Jon with to get back to Castle Black. Injured and weak, she had escaped. It was embarrassing and made him feel weak for allowing it to happen, for not considering all the possibilities. The entire time he had been at Castle Black he had been pushing for how he should have been a Ranger rather than a Steward, yet their situation was clearly marking him no Ranger. He could not even keep and small girl within his sights for a day.

They were about to round a bend of a large snow covered hill when Jon came to a halt, hearing the crunching of snow.

“Someone is coming,” said Sam, alarmed.

It was loud, and was clearly not who they were looking for.

Jon drew Longclaw and laid in wait, hearing Edd do the same at the back of the line. To his relief, one of their brothers who Jon had never met before came from around the bend, not looking surprised to see them.

“About time. There you fuckers are.”

Grenn huffed Jon’s left side, a few steps back. “Are you trying to get you head cut off?”

“Me?” he snorted. “And what if I were a Wildling three heads taller than you with an axe in one hand and a sword in the other coming from around that corner?” He shook his head, disappointed, then referenced to Jon. “Were you just going to stand there and let this one here defend you?”

Edd asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to find you boys.” He looked at all of them, one by one. “Glad to see you all intact.”

Pyp made a face from the word choice. “_Intact_?”

“Aye, that’s right. Can’t say the same for some of our other brothers. The dead attacked, ambushed us. We lost a lot of men and had to retreat back another way.”

The dead.

Jon’s skin prickled, and not from the cold. Daenerys had warned him about the dead being there. He had not realized how close. He felt guilty for leaving in the first place, knowing so many had died. Jon knew he was a skilled fighter, if anything, he could claim that, and had been there, perhaps not as many brothers would have perished as described.

“And, you are?” questioned Sam through shattering teeth.

“Qhorin.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or as you might know me as, Halfhand.”

Qhorin Halfhand, the legend., right before them.

Jon was dumbstruck. Qhorin even took off his glove to prove it, all fingers on this right hand gone apart from the index and thumb. That alone gained him respect from all of them.

“You must be Jon Snow.” He pointed at each of them. “Sam, Pyp, Edd and Grenn. Did I get that right?”

“That’s correct,” Sam said, impressed. “Very nice to meet you. We’ve all heard the stories of your bravery.”

“Yes, well, the only way to make it out here is to be brave.”

“The Lord Commander?” Jon asked, rushed, the thought dawning on him. “Is he…?”

Qhorin knew what he meant. “Alive and well.” He looked around some more, noticing the missing piece. “Where’s the girl you’re supposed to have? He told me you were transporting a Wildling.”

“Oh,” Sam nervously smiled, “Well, you see, it’s a little bit of a long story—”

“You lost her,” Qhorin deduced plainly.

“I wouldn’t put it that way exactly,” Jon defended sheepishly.

Qhorin crossed his arms, nose flaring. “How would you put it, then?”

The challenge was met with a meek rebuttal from Grenn. “She got up and walked off while we slept.”

Jon shot him a look.

“What? I thought we were being honest.”

_Smartass._

“You off to find her?”

“Yes,” Jon answered strongly, not about to embarrass himself further. “And we _will_ find her. We aren’t headed back for the Wall until we do.”

Qhorin nodded his head in the direction he came, willing to help. “Well, she’s not that way I would have seen her.” He pointed more towards the Northeast. “Must be headed that direction. I heard that is where some of the Wildlings are moving towards. Keep alert, you five. When there’s one Wildling, there is ten. And after what I just saw at the Fist, you want to stay as vigilant as possible. The dead only die by fire.”

Qhorin, true to himself, put one foot in front of the other, creating a new trail to follow in. There was no time to rest, only to keep moving. Jon glanced at his friends, and then began to follow, matching the pace of the steps.

—

They had been trudging through the snow for a while. Jon, despite his earlier confidence, was about to give up hope they would find anything out there—let alone Daenerys—until Ghost stuck his nose into the snow and found a trail.

It had to be her.

Pyp and Grenn thought he just caught the scent of a winter rabbit, but Sam disagreed. Ghost changed direction several times over, snout waving in the air, then dug his nose back to the frozen ground like he had done the first time he found Daenerys. Even Qhorin at one point was thinking they were on a goose chase, all led by the direwolf. Jon knew him better than that though, in a way that the others would ever not understand. With how Ghost had initially reacted to Daenerys, Jon was certain they were back on track.

To pass the time as they searched, Jon inquired further about the dead, and Qhorin told him all he knew. It was the kind of story that sent a shot of chills down his body at the description. Dead men with their faces half gone, bodies half gone, yet still wielding swords and other weapons like axes.

Wights.

It reminded him of the one he killed back at Castle Black. To imagine dozens of them banded together slaughtering his brothers was something out of a nightmare.

“The horn blasted three times and I think we all knew we were in for a fight for our lives,” Qhorin explained at the end. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“No one has, not for thousands of years.” Jon shook his head, still amazed. “What do you think made them come back?”

He only shrugged. “Not a single clue. All we have to be concerned with now is how we defeat them.”

There was a silence for a moment as both of them contemplated the weight of Qhorin’s statement. They had few brothers, few avenues of supplies, and were meant to protect Westeros from a mystery made of ice and death that no one knew much about.

Qhorin’s tone changed when he spoke again.“I have to be blunt with you Jon, as clearly you’re leading this group.” He looked behind them at the others, and Jon followed the gaze. “What you did was stupid. You’re lucky you’re still alive. Any other Wildling girl and she would have butchered you and smiled as you died.”

“I know.” Jon ducked his head at the criticism. “She could have killed us all and I would have been responsible…but, she didn’t. She didn’t even take any supplies from us when she left. She’s different,” he found himself saying, though she shouldn’t have spoken back.

“_Different_?” he cackled, evidently skeptical.

Jon nodded, not making eyes contact from the response. “It’s hard to explain.”

And before he could even attempt it, Grenn hissed, “There!”

All of them looked up, squinting as they saw a small line of smoke drifting from a little distance away, located between three hills that were huddled together in a cluster.

“Looks like we may have found your _different _girl,” Qhorin smirked, emphasizing the word. “And lucky you, the Lord Commander still wants her alive. She may have good information about the Wildlings we can use.”

Jon stopped dead in his tracks, letting Halfhand pass him. He played back his words of _lucky you, the Lord Commander still wants her alive._ If it were another way, Jon wondered if Qhorin would have been tracking her down to kill her. Jon knew he would not have it in him to kill her himself, and it made him sick to even contemplate.

—

Halfhand led the way, the rest sneaking behind him in a line with a small space between them. They could smell the smoke of a fire burning, though they did not know what was lying on the other side of the hill they trailed. It could be Daenerys, or it could be a pack of thirty Wildlings. Either way, they were going to have to find out.

“Do you hear that?” came an unrecognizable voice.

It all happened so quickly after that. The ambush revealed that the numbers were on their side. His eyes caught Daenerys first, sitting by the fire, a red headed woman not much older than her at her side, distracted because she had been tending to her wound. They had both fallen backwards, hands catching themselves as they retracted, scooting a few paces back into the dug out snow around them.

“Don’t move,” warned Edd.

They all circled around the women, Jon instinctively taking the space to Daenerys’ left. To all their surprise, the red headed Wildling threw her head back and laughed. She cocked it to the side. “Well, look at this sad sight.”

“Ygritte,” Daenerys warned, beautifully stern.

She was ignored, and Ygritte continued, “Are you wandering about all on your own out here? Not so safe these days for Crows who don’t know the land.”

Halfhand raised his sword to her chin, and she allowed her head up to look at him. “I could ask the two of you the same.”

The action settled deep in Jon, fearing raising in his throat, but he still found his voice. “Qhorin, we can’t.”

_You can’t,_ is what he really wanted to say, because he couldn’t imagine any of his friends being able to slice the heads from the girls either.

Qhorin was torn, that much was evident in his eyes and face, and all of them stood still. It was the Lord Commander’s orders to bring her back with them, but Jon knew that sometimes things had to be done out there in the Land of Always Winter that no one was proud of, and Qhorin was not one who was opposed to killing Wildlings. Morals wavered at times, but Jon was not willing to let it happened while he was present.

Luckily, before Jon had to defend the women anymore, Qhorin relented toward Jon’s point of view, releasing his sword, and picking up the weapon that Ygritte had not far off. The bow and arrows were given to Edd to carry, which she narrowed her eyes with hate at.

“I agree,” he finally said. “We’ll have to take them both with us now. Can’t let the other go.”

Edd huffed, turning his head up to look at the sky that was growing darker by the second, the sun nearly about to say goodbye to them for the night. “I guess we’re going to have some company for a while”

“We’ll have to stay here for the night, then head back with them at first light,” Qhorin planned out loud, looking at Jon as he spoke.

“We have to take them both?” Grenn questioned, making a face. “This one’s a bit big to be dragging around with us anyways,” he mentioned, pointing at the red-haired one.

She did not take the insult very well. “Big? Big! I’m pregnant, you _fool_,” spat Ygritte, sharp-tongued. She was not afraid of offending them. “Have you never seen a woman with child before? Ha! Bet you’ve never seen many women at all.”

Jon held back a laugh with a smile, but the smaller Wildling of the two, Daenerys, noticed him. Her eyes analyzed him with so much power behind them that he was afraid to move. He dropped back into his usual scowl and averted his gaze back to the action, his heart picking up the pace.

Jon played it all out in his head, arriving back at Castle Black with two Wildlings, one of them pregnant. They would house them and feed them and care for them as much as needed. None of the Night’s Watch would like that, some brothers more than others. They had been taught over and over that the Wildlings were the enemy. Yet, Jon was standing there, finding it hard to see Daenerys as that. She was just a girl who was trying to survive, just like him. It was a perspective that was messing with him.

Were they so different?

Jon knew he was going to have to volunteer to watch after them to make sure no harm came to the girls, and he knew he could rope in Edd to helping also.

Qhorin looked around at the group methodically. “Grenn,” he chose, pulling out some rope that he brought with him, tossing it over to him. “Tie her up,” he ordered, pointing to Daenerys.

Jon interrupted. “I can—”

“Grenn is just as capable,” Qhorin announced. “Tie it up tight.”

Jon felt like he had been scolded. He was inserting himself too much into her path and had to lay low.

“Is your name Ygritte?” Sam inquired, saying back what Daenerys had.

Jon knew the question was leading towards getting a name from Daenerys, both him and Jon seeking out concrete answers about their own deductions from the hair and the eyes.

Ygritte pouted as Qhorin stood her up and tied her hands and her legs. “What is it to you?”

Sam rubbed his hands together, then placed the palms towards the low burning fire, acting nonchalant. “Just curious, really. I’d like to call you by your rightful name if I need to.”

Sam had a way of being passive that eased her. Ygritte softened around the edges, eyeing Sam. “Yes, I’m Ygritte.” She shot her eyes to her silver haired friend. “This is Dany.”

Dany.

Jon’s eyebrows pulled together. He figured it was an easy shortcut from Daenerys. It was confirmation enough for him, exchanging a look with Sam.

Grenn had done the same as Qhorin and pulled Daenerys up off the ground. Jon was watching closely as he tied the rope, catching how she cringed a couple times. _Not too tight_, he wanted to tell him, but kept his mouth shut. He had said too much already.

“Odd names,” Pyp remarked behind them.

“And I’m sure yours are just music to the ears,” Ygritte snickered back, spiteful. “Would you like to introduce yourselves, since we are all going to be spending time together as you try to tow us back to Crow Castle.”

“Castle Black,” Edd corrected her. “I’m Edd. This is Sam, Grenn, Pyp, Qhorin, and Jon.”

Daenerys shifted her head upwards at Jon at the sound of his name. Jon felt a pull towards her, taking a step as he met her eyes.

“Getting a good look, are you, Crow?” Ygritte snapped, watching Jon.

He almost mumbled an apology, averting his gaze, hoping no one else thought much of it.

Before anyone could move, she started off with a threat. “Touch her and I’ll kill you myself,” Ygritte mouthed off, staring Jon down with a vengeful look.

He did not doubt her words.

It brought a blush to Jon’s cheeks, though thankfully they were already red from the cold and would go unnoticed.

“No one is touching anyone,” Qhorin announced, sounding tired. “Shut up about it, will you?”

Minutes went by as they start to make camp to settle down for the night. There was not too much to do, as Ygritte and Dany had already been there, fire started. Qhorin allowed Jon and Edd to team up and take the first watch. At first, he was against keeping the fire, but the wind was kicking up and they were all feeling the cold.

They all wanted to actually wake up in the morning.

After a bit of time, the girls who were at opposite ends of the fire were growing restless.

“Are we expected to sleep standing up?” Ygritte loudly asked, her hostility coming through on each word.

Jon rolled his eyes. Prisoners were supposed to be obedient and quiet, but not her. Ygritte would pester and prod at every turn.

“I hope you’re used to sleeping in the elements,” Qhorin called, pointing in their direction. “We’re keeping you two out here so we can keep an eye on you. No talking to each other, you hear?”

There was an audible huff from Ygritte as she blew a strand of hair out of her face and Daenerys only nodded.

“Go on, help them, Jon.”

Jon dropped the wood he had in his hands and went over to Ygritte first, lowering her to the ground, careful of her growing stomach.

A slight feeling of nervousness entered his system as he went for the other, Dany, at the opposite side of the fire. In a sign of good faith, he wanted to reunite her with Ygritte so they could sleep together, Qhorin not saying they couldn’t, and he had already disappeared into his tent. Jon reached out for her, and out of instinct, Daenerys had tried to move her legs, but her balance was thrown off because they were tied. With a gasp, she slipped on the ice and her bound body could not steady itself. He grabbed her before the fall, but she took Jon down with her, and he fell half on top of her, both thudding down. Luckily, his reflexes had kicked in and had cupped the back of her head before it made contact with the ice.

“Did they really let you into the Night’s Watch?” Ygritte laughed, her head lifted from her place on her back. “What a fool, this one is.”

Jon didn’t respond. The first thing he could think was _ouch._ He had whacked his left elbow on the ice as they fell.

“Are you injured?” he asked Dany, concerned.

She shook her head, looking up with him with clear violet eyes that sparkled against the reflection of the snow.

“You are,” she said back. Jon looked at his hands, knuckles bloody from the fall when her head smacked his hands into the ice.

“I’ll be fine,” he grimaced, trying to put on a brave face to not show the pain.

From across the way, Ygritte chuckled. “Look at you two. “That was the position I was in that got me like this,” Ygritte teased, referring to her pregnant belly.

Jon swiftly removed himself, blushing again. He was grateful that all his attire was hiding that his cock was getting hard underneath it all. It had been entirely innocent, but his body had reacted to being on a woman for the first time. Despite it, Jon hauled Daenerys back up, sliding his hands underneath her to carry her over. Once slipped next to Ygritte, he backed away, embarrassed—once again that day.

He heard Dany say, “Thank you,” but he only briefly acknowledged it over his shoulder.

He went to go disappear to find Edd, Pyp, and Grenn, who were out scouting the area for the night.

—

Once everything was secure, and they all felt good enough with the progress, Edd and Jon took their posts and the others went into the tents to get sleep. Edd went to the top of the hill to hunker down. The moonlight was barely peeking through the clouds, so all he could do was listen out for any others. Jon remained close to the girls, at the opposite end of the fire, propped up against his pack. Ghost had disappeared right before they had ambushed, probably off on a hunt, and Jon wished his warm companion was closer. All he could do was scoot closer to the small fire.

While waiting for his turn to sleep, Jon tried to keep himself occupied. Even though Qhorin had told the girls to not talk, they were anyways, and Jon wasn’t going to stop them. He was listening in on the conversation, half paying attention to what he was doing while sharpening his dagger. 

“Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

“It hurts, just a little.”

“I should have bludgeoned that Thenn. If I didn’t have this massive bump on my stomach, I would have rammed him right into the ice and left him bloody.”

Jon’s ears perked up, his hands slowing at the word Thenn.

“We’re lucky we got away without becoming a meal.”

Jon felt sick. He had heard a lot about Thenns, particularly about their taste for human flesh.

“Did those Crows put their hands on you?”

“No,” she answered quietly.

Jon glanced up when there was only silence that followed. The two huddled close together, Ygritte’s stomach pressed into the back of Daenerys. They were close, he could tell, definitely not blood related but might as well have been.

It made Jon feel lonely.

Jon tucked his head into the dip his knees that he brought up close to his chest, fighting off the feeling off wanting to close his eyes. He could already hear the sounds of light snoring coming from the tents. Jon came to the conclusion that he felt too uneasy with leaving the women out in the elements while he slept more comfortably inside. It might have been no trouble for the others, but to him, it didn’t seem right. He would have voluntarily offered his sleeping quarters for them, but he knew that Qhorin would have said they had to keep them in the open so they would not conspire.

So, there he was, looking at the tent set up with Sam inside, knowing there was enough room for him. His bones were tired, muscles aching, eyelids heavy, but he would not bring himself to give into the temptation when the time came. He could not forsake his sense of ethics.

Edd came down from the hill not long after. “Get some sleep, I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s no one out there. Besides, I’d feel better knowing you were well rested. Head in for the night. You look exhausted.”

He wasn’t going to argue, not with the way his body was feeling. “Wake me if you need me. I’ll be right here.”

Edd hesitated. “Out here?” he looked around plainly. “Are you mad?”

“It’s fine, just keep watch. I’m waiting for Ghost.”

It wasn’t a lie, he really was waiting for Ghost to return, it was just he didn’t have to wait outside for him to find his way back.

Edd sighed, knowing his friend better than that. “You’re a good man, Snow. Stupid, but good.”

With a sigh, Jon rounded the fire towards a flat boulder that would help give him some protection from the wind. Jon took a spot parallel to their silver haired prisoner, trying to get comfortable on nothing but the ice and snow beneath him. His cloak provided some layer of cushion, at least.

Sleep came easier than expected, but in the middle of the darkness, it was the cold that woke him with a startle. The fire had burned out completely, a layer of snow covering them all. Jon sat up, shaking the flakes from him. He rubbed at his nose, though he could barely feel it.

How did the Free Folk live out there?

Jon pondered the question for a minute until he saw Daenerys was wiggling about. She had opened her eyes, watching Jon as he rose from discomfort. “It’s just a little snow,” she claimed. “Can’t hurt.”

“It can kill,” he remarked, voice raspy from sleep. “I’m not used to it like you are.”

With her head, she pointed before him. “Very true. Why aren’t you sleeping in one of those tents, then?”

Jon turned his head down and shook out the rest of the flakes, running his hand through his hair. Telling the truth, he explained, “I felt bad with you two out here.”

“How honorable of you.”

Honorable.

It was like she had taken the words right out of his mind. It made him feel good that she recognized it that way.

Dany stared at him curiously for a bit, then said, “You ought to get that fire going again.”

Jon contemplated it, the thought so tempting. “I could, but are you trying to send a signal to someone?”

She continued to stare at him curiously, making him self-conscious. “No, just trying to make sure that you don’t die. They’ll leave your corpse out here to stay frozen forever.”

Jon turned back, shaking that prickly sensation over the thought of that possibility. They only had a bundle of thin branches left, and to go out and search for more wood would be unwise at that time. He wouldn’t be able to see much, so he would have to make do with what they had. Jon was going to opt in believing Daenerys. If it was a mistake, then so be it.

Once lit, he could feel a small bit of heat coming from the new flames. He scooted over right in front, hoping to warm his face so he didn’t have to cut off his nose from frostbite. Jon once again tucked his chin into the space between his knees and waited until he felt the thaw, wrapping his arms around his legs to keep his insides protected. When he turned his head, wild curls dropping into his face, he noticed that her eyes were still on him, having never left.

“You should rest more,” he tried to advise.

“It’s hard to sleep with this.” She held up her bound hands, wiggling her fingers. “It’s too tight,” she claimed, eyes earnest. Daenerys rose into a sitting position, her legs straight out in front of her. She held out her hands towards him. “_Please_.”

It made him feel terrible.

Jon had never once been bound or chained, and to see her there, this beautiful girl looking at him with a pout, saying she was hurting, and he had the power to stop it, _well_, it hit a soft spot for Jon. She had already escaped once, and that was the main contributing factor to his hesitance. However, he still relented after weighing his options, as stupid as he knew he was being. Jon sighed as he gave in, maneuvering over to her as he took a knife that was at his side and sawed through the rope until it freed her. Daenerys immediately rubbed her wrists with her free hands. Even in such dull light, he could see the red marks and indentations in her skin from how tight Grenn had tied.

Relieved, she expressed, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled, almost shyly. There was a pause, then he added, “Don’t do anything stupid that’ll get you killed.”

_Or me_, he wanted to add.

Daenerys looked at him, puzzled. “Silly boy, I’m not going anywhere. Rest easy.” She gazed at her free hands like she had seen the moon and stars for the first time. “They say there are no kind Crows. They must be wrong.”

It threw him off entirely.

“You don’t know me,” Jon denied, turning away, back to the safety of the fire, a small attempt to keep some space between them that he felt was thinning.

She giggled at him, lying backwards into the snow next to Ygritte. “No, but I’m getting to know you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts! I'm excited to see the reactions :)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this idea for so long that I really hope you all like it. I've got a lot of chapters already written and drafted and I am absolutely so excited to be posting more soon.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and any predictions!


End file.
